The Five Ways
by merlintriss
Summary: Based on a prompt by impish dragon on the LJ Dyson-Kenzi community, Spoilers Season 3. Dyson has been feeling strange since Kenzi's visit to the Norn.
1. Chapter 1

The Five Ways

**Season 3 spoilers. Don't read if you haven't watched. Based off a prompt from livejournal and impish_dragon. **

Midweek is not the best time to come to the Dahl, not if you're looking for distractions. Tricks there, of course, and the odd wayfarer stopping in for a drink, but otherwise, nothing. Trick has sent the waitress home, the new one that Hale has been going after like a dog in heat, so tonight it's just Dyson, a tall glass of beer, and a troll at the other end of the bar. But you don't come to a bar midweek to dance or rabble rouse.

Dyson nurses the beer. It's hard to even get interested in that. Since Kenzi got back his love from the Norn (and he still needs to ask her how she managed that) he's been feeling a different kind of emptiness. It's not Bo is with Lauren—if he's honest, he's happy they have each other. He still doesn't trust the blonde doctor, but she's proven her worth after the battle with the Garuda. She'll never be enough for Bo, but he wasn't enough for Bo either. He's not sure anyone will be. He tells himself that's not bitterness, just honesty. She's a succubus after all.

No, the disinterest isn't Bo-related. It's starting to become a problem on the job. He can barely focus on the case, he's driven to distraction.

He catches a scent. It's something sweet. He looks down the bar at the troll and instantly dismisses the possibility. Maybe Trick has opened a bottle of some new wine. Something that smells like sugar and a hint of something else, something wicked. He can't quite put a finger on it. Something ambrosial, and the smell is so intense, he can taste it.

"Trick. Did you just open a bottle of something?" Trick comes back from behind the bar where he was talking to the Troll.

"Just some bagh. Standard troll fare." Trick motions to a bottle of brackish liquid.

"I don't suppose it smells sweet?" Dyson asks. He needs to find the source of that delicious smell.

"It's bog water from his homeland." Trick walks to him, leaving the troll behind. "If I'm going to be perfectly honest, it smells like sewage, but it's considered poor manners to not have some kept just in case."

"I can smell something…it's hard to describe. It's like sugar, but not too sweet. With a kick to it." Dyson puts his hands over his face. "It's been a long day."

"I'm surprised you can smell anything but the bagh." Trick held his nose. "It's pretty pungent stuff. I can't wait til Hale has spoken to all the elder families, so I can start keeping a regular bar again."

Dyson nodded, half paying attention. The scent would not leave him, and to be honest, he didn't want it to. It seemed to fill the part of him that was empty. He took a longer draw from his beer.

Kenzi stumbled into the bar clearly upset, her covered arms wrapping around her waist as she came to sit next to Dyson at the bar.

"Remind me to fuck that Mesmer up the next time I see him." Kenzi puffed. "Trick, beer me."

"Vex? Our little impotent friend?" Trick asked as Kenzi shrugged off her jacket and put it on the back of the chair.

"I'll show him impotence." Kenzi drank a quick swig.

"What did he do this time?" Dyson asked.

"He threw out all of my make-up. Said," She started imitating the Dark Fae's British accent. "That if I wanted to look like a sad doll I was succeeding. Then said something about not knowing how to put on my own mascara." She pointed to her face, slightly less done up than normal. "This is all Bo's stuff, which I had to dig out of the footlocker."

"I'm surprised you didn't make him buy you new make-up." Dyson interjected. "He's still wealthy"

"God." Kenzi jumped off the seat. "You're right. That was probably his plan all along. He just really wants a make-up buddy. That Mesmer is footing the bill tonight!" She left the Dahl with a pep in her step.

Dyson noticed she had forgotten her jacket, but when he bent down to pick it up, he was entranced. There was that scent, almost stitched into the black leather. It was fascinating, a deep combination of sugar and honey, with an edge he couldn't quite describe. He had never smelled anything as fantastic in his life.

He threw down a couple of dollars to pay his tab, and left, carrying Kenzi's jacket. He had to find out what other Fae Kenzi had been tangling with recently.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for reading and thank you again to impish_dragon for the prompt. Check out the LJ community dyson-kenzi if it interests you and write! There needs to be more Dyson/Kenzi fanfiction out there. Warning—descriptions of nudity, no sex. **

It's been weeks since Dyson saw Kenzi at the Dahl, and he still can't get the smell out of his mind. Honeyed wine maybe, like nothing else. Kenzi looked at him like he was nuts when he asked her about it. Said she doesn't know any strange Fae (well no stranger than the rest of them) aside from Vex, and Dyson knows the scent can't be coming from the Mesmer.

The scent still surrounds Kenzi, fits around her like a glove, so Dyson stays with her. The smell confuses him, but there's something familiar about it, which has him worried. Kenzi's the smallest, the most vulnerable of the group, and a soft target. She's brash and thinks she can handle herself, but there are Fae out there that would eat her alive. If that scent belongs to a threat, she could be in serious trouble.

He stays around Kenzi, just to make sure. Even agrees to help them on this very human mission—a missing stripper at a local club. Bo is undercover at the bar, and Kenzi is somewhere around here. Bo had called him and said that they needed someone to pose as a customer. He smiled at the cocktail waitress, a cute red head with a red fringe dress, but the gesture is hollow. Dyson hasn't slept around since Ciara died.

Lauren has stopped in at the club, looking completely out of place in her beige cardigan and brown pants—almost suburban mom-ish and Dyson shakes his head. Bo has just been feeding off of Lauren and it's only a matter of time before that comes back to haunt her. Succubae aren't meant to be monogamous and they can starve if they don't feed, but Bo desperately wants to prove her loyalty to the human doctor.

Dyson's attention is caught by something at the edge of the stage, a slight flash of skin, milky white in the darkness. He's always been good for details, but it's gone before he can see anything more. Soft, white skin.

There is a screech of microphone and the music stills.

"Please welcome to our stage, the newest act at LA Nights, Dawson!" The announcer calls, and the lights come up on the stage. Her skin is smooth and her body small, but she walks like she knows what she's doing. Just the sight of her is enough to get Dyson's blood pumping in ways he hadn't realized he still could. Her head is obscured by a bright blue wig before she turns to the light, large doe eyes looking up.

It's Kenzi.

Dyson wants to look away. This is the girl who is his friend, practically a sister, but he can't think like that when she takes off the first layer of fabric, a beaded wrap from her hip. She's meant to look like some old-fashioned burlesque dancer from the 20's, an era he remembers, but with blue hair. She's wearing a pair of boots he recognizes, tall four or five inch heels with large buckles, and he tries to focus on that when she stalks across the stage to the pole.

A man across the room cat-calls, and Dyson looks back to Kenzi. The way the light is on the stage, it's almost as though she's dancing just for him. He can smell and hear everyone else in the room, but the sight of her is so riveting it's impossible for him to look anywhere else. Kenzi's lips quirk into a smile as she slides her back down the pole, her knees firmly together and her chest still covered by a bedazzled bra. She's playing at chaste, even when she opens her legs for a quick peak at her underwear.

She's having fun, and he memorizes the curve of her smile, the dip of skin along her hip bone. She's wearing a pair of long blue gloves, their silkiness a perfect pair for her skin. He's infatuated with the site of her.

She loses the bra with a flourish, but her gloved hands still hide her breasts from view. She shakes her head coquettishly and he groans. How had he not seen before how beautiful she was? So enticing. She takes away her hands and it's all he can do to not run onstage and take her then. She's just wearing those gloves, the boots, and a skimpy pair of underwear before she grabs the pole and swings around.

She's so lithe, and he remembers that from the time Kenzi had him teach her how to punch, how her body had felt against his, so small but so tough. The music stops an Kenzi rushes over to the edge of the stage to collect the dollar bills that have been thrown her way. She smiles really quickly at Dyson before rushing backstage.

He has no idea what he's going to do now.

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	3. Chapter 3

**I do apologize for my unexpected two month hiatus. March Madness turned out to be a bit insane, and I had to catch up on all the Lost Girl I missed. I sort of hate the Norn Rash story line from the series. So I'll probably ignore it. Thank you for still following the story, and hopefully I'll get back on a quicker post schedule. **

Dyson has taken to avoiding Kenzi. It's the only way he knows to preserve his sanity. She's his friend, and he doesn't want to ruin that with errant lust.

He buries himself in work, but he's found it so hard to sleep. If Hale had still been around, he probably would've been confused, but Tamisin just smirks and hands him another coffee. He would say she understood, but he's not sure what there is to understand.

He hates being in the dark about his own body. He's a detective and a wolf, and he feels powerless to whatever is going on, to his sudden attraction to Kenzi. The mere thought of her skin, or her scent, is enough to drive him wild with need.

When Bo calls him one morning and asks him to come over to the clubhouse, he agrees, hoping that Kenzi has taken up with some bass player boyfriend and will be out of the house. Bo says' it's urgent, something about a murdered human in an underground boxing ring. Dyson rubs his eyes as he enters the building when he hears it.

It's a soft, lilting sound. He's unsure that he could hear it if he had only been human. The sound is sweet—innocent. It's as if it surrounds him, and all he can do is think about how beautiful it is. It reminds him of childhood, of a time he can no longer even remember, when his mother would braid their hair and sing to them in Gaelic, holding the youngest to her breast and softly soothing the others to sleep. It's a sound that is a memory, and it's full of life and hope.

He leaned back against the wall of the clubhouse entrance, unable to move.

It's singing, he realizes. But not like Hale's siren call. It's simply the power of the human voice, soft and sweet. He tries to catch the words in the song, tries to figure out why it sounds so familiar, but it's not a language he knows.

He shudders as Kenzi's scent wraps around him, and if he was any weaker, his control would've snapped there. He remembers the white softness of her skin, thick with her scent. He can imagine her kisses, the softness of her body against his, her sweet voice begging.

Bo's voice breaks his reverie, and he realizes that he's still slouched against the wall.

"Dyson, are you alright?" She asks.

"Yeah." He tries to brush her concern off. "I just haven't been sleeping." She leads him upstairs into the club house and into the kitchen. Kenzi is sitting on the couch with a magazine and perks up when Dyson walks in.

"D'man, how's it hanging?" She asks, and looks confused when he smiles weakly in reply.

"You sir, need the healing powers of coffee." Kenzi starts up a pot of coffee and leans against the counter watching as Bo lays out the case for Dyson.

He tries to concentrate, but Kenzi is wearing a low cut top that accents the top of her chest, and when her hair swings, her scent is so much stronger. He manages to get the gist of the case, and grabs the file so he can read it somewhere less distracting. Kenzi passes him a cup of coffee, which he downs quickly.

Dyson turns to leave, and he can feel their eyes on him. They're worried, but it's not their problem.

"Kenzi." He asks, his back still to them. "What were you singing?"

He can feel her embarrassment and wishes she didn't ask. It was clearly private, and he feels like he has intruded on something personal.

"Um, forgot about your wolf ears." She pauses. "It's some Russian lullaby my grandmother would sing to me when I was little and back in the home country."  
"It was beautiful." Dyson whispered, leaving the clubhouse as quickly as he could manage.

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